


Pony

by alisvolatpropiis



Series: If I Played You My Favorite Song [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Derek Has A Cat, Derek seduces Stiles with R&B, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Marijuana, Musician Derek, Songfic, Tattooed Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:25:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2095680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisvolatpropiis/pseuds/alisvolatpropiis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Thank you, you’ve been a great crowd,” he purrs, reaching a tattooed hand up to adjust the microphone. “I’m going to finish with something a little different.” He laughs quietly to himself and rolls his broad, black v-neck-clad shoulders like he’s steeling himself, the first time all night he’s seemed nervous. “This is, uh, another cover, and I’ve never actually performed it…ever. But I feel like tonight’s the perfect night for it.” He laughs again and takes a deep breath. “So yeah, please continue to be kind, folks.” The crowd cheers and the singer – Derek Hale – gives this little sly smile as he fiddles with the strings of his guitar for a second, those unbelievable eyes flashing over to where Stiles has been sitting all night. </p><p>...</p><p>In which acoustic musician Derek Hale seduces Stiles with a modern R&B classic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pony

**Author's Note:**

> Another ficlet that grew legs! Just some silly fluff for our boys. :)
> 
> Someday I'll write a ficlet that stays a ficlet, BUT THIS IS NOT THAT DAY.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> If you're not familiar with the masterpiece that is [Ginuwine's "Pony"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7P6ut6HPR8), I strongly suggest listening before/while reading. :)
> 
> But this is how I imagine [Derek's version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PVCTbcJjBA).
> 
> In my reality, Derek's singing voice sounds like Chris Cornell's, hence the ["Billie Jean" cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GurZpsfEWwY)

“Thank you, you’ve been a great crowd,” he purrs, reaching a tattooed hand up to adjust the microphone. “I’m going to finish with something a little different.” He laughs quietly to himself and rolls his broad, black v-neck-clad shoulders like he’s steeling himself, the first time all night he’s seemed nervous. “This is, uh, another cover, and I’ve never actually performed it…ever. But I feel like tonight’s the perfect night for it.” He laughs again and takes a deep breath. “So yeah, please continue to be kind, folks.” The crowd cheers and the singer – Derek Hale – gives this little sly smile as he fiddles with the strings of his guitar for a second, those unbelievable eyes flashing over to where Stiles has been sitting all night.

Stiles feels his chest tighten, takes a long swallow from his beer. This is not what he was expecting when Lydia and Allison dragged him away from his master’s thesis to get a drink. They ended up here at the Moonlight, a hipster bar in Cap Hill that he doesn’t actively hate – actively loves now that he’s spent the last hour and a half watching and listening to local musician Derek Hale captivate the room with his acoustic guitar and downright sinful voice.

The dude is more than hot like burning, and if Stiles wasn't borderline brain dead from a week of nonstop research and writing, he might be able to find the words to adequately describe him. Or perhaps not. He really is THAT.FUCKING.HOT. All he can really process is rippling muscles and bright tattoos and green eyes and a beard as black as night that he wants to rub his entire body all over from now until the end of time. And then for a bit longer after that.

And that _voice_. It’s gravelly but still kinda smooth, rough but honeyed, possibly magical, just like his eyes, which in the dim lights of the bar look more gold than green when they dart over to land on Stiles again, which they’ve been doing all night, which absolutely does not help with the whole overwhelmed-by-too-much-perfect-masculine-beauty situation he’s trying to deal with.

Of course the guy is talented as hell, because apparently when the universe giveth, it giveths _hard_. He’s had the entire room entranced all night with his original songs full of deceptively complex chord progressions and haunting lyrics. He’s played a few covers too, including a truly breathtaking rendition of “Billie Jean” that had the room screaming and made Stiles’ insides go all melty and twisty.

Derek seems to be the master of the dramatic pause, because by the time he finally starts plucking the first chords of the last song of his set, the too-crowded bar is nearly silent, tense with anticipation. For maybe the first time in his twenty-four years, Stiles it utterly still, holding his breath in anticipation.

It’s possible that he makes a noise – maybe a moan, possibly a throaty squeal – when Derek starts singing.

_Well I’m just a bachelor_

_Looking for a partner_

The crowd is hollering and cheering, and there are _way too many_ high pitched screams and woo-hoos, but all of that fades into the background as Derek continues to stare at Stiles, that roguish smile darting in and out of the thicket of his beard.

“Oh my god,” he hears himself whisper into his beer.

“Is this what I think it is,” Lydia asks, excited, incredulous, eyes snapping back and forth between Derek and Stiles.

Allison laughs and reaches across the table to squeeze his arm. “Oh yeah. It’s ‘Pony.’ You gonna make it, Stiles?” 

He may be a little buzzed and generally pretty clueless when it comes to realizing when a guy is into him, but he’s starting to suspect that he’s being seduced.

He can’t respond to Allison, who has fallen into Lydia’s side anyways, nuzzling into her neck and laughing. Stiles can’t really breathe, can’t really do much of anything but sit there dumbfounded, torn between disbelief and a rising, burning excitement that’s lighting him up.

_Someone who knows how to ride_

_Without even fallin’ off_

God, he is somehow taking one of the sexiest songs in existence and making it even sexier, slowing and stripping it down, dragging out every word like a sundering kiss, voice positively dripping with sex, eyes still locked on Stiles'.

_Gotta be compatible_

“Wait,” Lydia yell-whispers. “Is he gonna change the lyric – "

Stiles clutches her arm, silences her with a quick look because he _needs_ to hear every lascivious note of this, and he _really needs_ to hear if Derek’s going change the lyric she’s talking about. _  
_

_Takes me to my limits_

Oh god, is he?

_Boy, when I break you off_

That’s it. Stiles is officially dead, slain by the pure sex of Derek Hale gayin’ up “Pony,” singing right to him like they’re the only ones in the room.

_I promise that you won’t want to get off_

Stiles can only imagine what his face his doing, but whatever it is Derek seems to like it, smirking as he plays, eyes flitting down to his hands for a second before coming back up to resume watching him as he sings, sending shivers down his spine and straight to his cock, possibly his soul.

_If you’re horny_

_Let’s do it_

_Ride it_

_My pony_

Derek’s smiling for real now, big and bright, eyes crinkling at the corners like he’s having the time of his life, like he can’t quite believe he’s doing this.

You and me both, buddy, Stiles thinks.

_My saddle’s waitin’_

_Come jump on it_

Stiles zones out for a second, letting himself get lost in the images that rich voice is painting, body growing hot, hands clammy, half-hard and getting harder with each note, with each soulful word licking at him like a flame. 

He's _dying_ to jump on it, _aching_ to ride it.

_Sittin' here flossin'_

_Peepin' your steelo_

Oh god, those lyrics sound ridiculous coming from a white guy with an acoustic guitar, but that just makes the whole absurd situation better somehow, makes Stiles think that for all his brooding musician, king-of-pain persona, Derek doesn’t seem to take himself too seriously.

Stiles is totally and utterly fucked.  

_Just once if I have the chance  
_

_The things I would do to you_

_You and your body_

_Every single portion_

Thankfully, Stiles' pint glass is mostly empty, so he doesn’t make too much of a mess when he flails a bit and knocks it over. Derek totally sees him of course, laughs without missing a beat.

_Send chills up and down your spine_

_Juices flowin' down your thigh_

Eyes still locked on Stiles', the sonofabitch _winks_.

**~*~**

Stiles wakes up around noon the next day with an unfamiliar black cat pressed against his head, the big soft bed that’s definitely not his otherwise empty. The cat stretches across the pillow, clearly giving no fucks about using Stiles’ face as furniture.

He stumbles out of the bed, smiling a bit at the pleasant soreness he feels all over.  _Saddle sore_ , he thinks with a laugh, memories from the night before making him damn near giddy as he digs through the piles of clothes on the floor to find his boxer briefs. He pulls them on as he walks out of the bedroom through a set of black-curtained French doors, following the soft sound of an acoustic guitar.

The living room smells like a delicious blend of fresh coffee and weed, and Stiles has to close his eyes for a second to convince himself that what he’s seeing is real, that he didn’t fall asleep in front of his laptop (again) and dream the whole night up.

But when he opens his eyes, Derek Hale is still there, sitting on a low-to-the-floor couch, joint hanging from the corner of that mouth that destroyed Stiles in more ways than one last night. Derek appears to be naked, but he can’t be sure, covered as he is by the guitar strung across his lap, just like Stiles was not too long ago. He’s plucking lightly at the strings and smiling, and Stiles gasps a bit at just how lovely he is like this, sleepy-eyed and sweet.

“Morning,” Stiles says, walking over to take the joint from his mouth, pulling a long drag.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Derek smiles, looking up at him, one hand reaching up to brush lightly over Stiles’ bare thigh. “There’s coffee.”

“Oh my god, you’re amazing,” Stiles tells him, leaning over to plant a kiss on his bedraggled hair, a gesture of intimacy that comes so naturally it feels like they’ve known each other for years, not just hours. “Do I get another song with my coffee,” he asks, making his way to the kitchen.

"Yep. Was practicing it while you were sleeping," he says with that same sly smile from last night. He starts playing the opening chords of another familiar-sounding song as Stiles rummages through his kitchen cupboards.

When Derek starts singing, Stiles nearly drops the chipped mug, bubbles of laughter and arousal sparking through him as he recognizes the song instantly.

 _I’m not trying to be rude_  

_But hey pretty boy I’m feelin’ you_

_The way you do the things you do_

Stiles heads back to living room, coffee in one hand, joint in the other, falling down to sit next to Derek on the couch.

Yep, he's definitely naked.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The second song is, of course, [R. Kelly's "Ignition (Remix)"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6y_4_b6RS8)
> 
> Come say hi and give me ficlet ideas on the [Tumbles!!](http://deleted-scenes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
